


love, alfred

by iwritetrash



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: (a happy ending? shocking), Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Infidelity, M/M, Mutual Pining, Smoking, the Love Rosie AU nobody asked for or wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 16:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13768044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritetrash/pseuds/iwritetrash
Summary: Alfred has loved Edward for years, even if he didn't quite know it all the time, so, when he finds himself at Edward's wedding as the best man and not the groom, he feels more than a little heartbroken.





	love, alfred

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so i watched Love, Rosie over the weekend, cried buckets, and then wrote this...
> 
> i hope you like it!

Alfred doesn’t really know why he agreed to come to Edward’s wedding, or why he agreed to be Edward’s best man. It just sort of… happened.

The thing is, Alfred has been in love with Edward for a long time. Maybe he hasn’t always known it, but it’s always been there. It was there when they were teenagers and he slept with some idiot after the school dance because Edward took Florence as a date and he was jealous. It was there when Edward had gone to the other end of the country to study in Scotland and Alfred had missed him like crazy. It was there when Alfred visited and _so nearly kissed him_ but stopped at the last second because he didn’t want to ruin things.

It was even there when Alfred got engaged to his long term boyfriend, Antoine, who had cheated on him anyway, and, as Alfred had later learned, had hidden a letter Edward had written confessing to Alfred that he loved him.

By the time Alfred had found the letter Edward was already engaged to the very same girl he took to the dance all those years ago. And so they missed each other once again.

So. Here he is. Standing in front of a crowd of people all expecting to hear a speech about how happy Alfred is to see his closest friend marrying, and how he hopes the newlyweds will be happy too, when all he wants to do is crawl into a corner and burst into tears. But he promised Edward he would do this. Even if he doesn’t believe that Edward loves Florence. Even if _he_ is in love with _Edward_. Because it’s high time he stopped being selfish.

His speech is nice, appropriately funny, and meaningful at the same time, and he even makes a joke about his eighteenth birthday, and the fact that he doesn’t remember most of it thanks to Edward’s astounding ability to hold his drink, and Alfred’s refusal to back down from a challenge. Alfred doesn’t know it yet, but that’s when something clicks into place in Edward’s head, the answer to the question he’s been asking himself for years.

It’s not until later, when Edward finds Alfred on the roof, having escaped for a few moments, that he brings it up.

“You don’t remember anything about your 18th birthday?” Edward says, doing his best to act nonchalant, and almost certainly failing.

“I remember going to a club, and I remember that it was loud. That’s about it, unfortunately,” Alfred chuckles, lighting a cigarette. He ought to quit, he knows that, but he can’t seem to kick the habit, especially at times like these, with emotions running high.

“So when you said it was awful, and that we should just forget it all happened…”

“That was the hangover talking. Why?” Alfred chuckles as Edward quotes the very words Alfred had said while still reeling from the effects of the sheer volume of alcohol he’d consumed. He’s also still doing his best to keep the conversation light, to act as unaffected as possible by Edward’s wedding. “Edward? Did something happen that night?”

Edward laughs nervously, and stares at the ground, kicking absent-mindedly at the concrete. “We, uh, we kissed that night, about, uh, five tequila slammers in? I only realised tonight that you didn’t remember that.”

“So the next morning when I…” the realisation dawns on Alfred slowly, “you thought I was rejecting you.” Edward shrugs, still looking at anything but Alfred. “That’s why you took Florence to the dance.” 

“And you slept with… God, what was his name? Jack?”

Alfred laughs quietly for a moment, before correcting him. “John.” 

“John. You slept with John.”

“And here we are. You’re married, and I’m-” Alfred almost says ‘I’m in love with you’, but he stops himself. He’s not being selfish anymore. “I’m, uh, I’m not.” It’s awkward, and pretty transparent, but Edward doesn’t challenge him on it. Alfred takes a drag on his cigarette to stop himself from saying something else, something he might regret. Edward makes no attempt to fill the silence, so instead they stand and look out over the city for a few more minutes, until someone pops their head around the door and says they need the groom and the best man back at the reception.

Alfred goes home, leaving Edward behind with his new wife without saying another word about his feelings for Edward. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved, he thinks. It’s for the best. 

Needless to say that when Edward shows up on Alfred’s doorstep hardly a month later he’s more than a little surprised. It’s like the end of a good movie, when Edward shows up and tells Alfred that he’s left Florence, and that he’s in love with him, and that he always has been, and it’s everything Alfred has ever wanted to hear him say and more.

When Alfred kisses him, the moment becomes complete: a perfect moment he will treasure forever, through the good and the bad. It’s everything he’s wanted since he was 16, through countless mishaps and missed connections and terrible timing, and now that it’s finally happening he can’t quite believe it.

Edward pulls back from him just a little bit with a goofy grin. “Don’t you dare forget it this time,” he whispers, and Alfred laughs, before pressing their lips back together.

**Author's Note:**

> leave me some kudos or a comment or something if you like this! 
> 
> thank you for reading <3


End file.
